Take Notice
by OnceUponACrime
Summary: Post-OotP. Harry spends one summer in America (on Dumbledore's orders) and suddenly his whole world gets turned upside down. The first novel in a series of three. Eventual HD slash. You've been warned.
1. Default Chapter

Take Notice  
© OnceUponACrime  
  
Chapter One  
Breeze  
  
The sun was shining. A calm breeze tickled the sheer white curtains. It swirled around the spacious room, rustling dried flowers, old photographs, and light summer clothing hanging over chairs. It found its way to the bed and sent smooth locks of brunette hair onto a boy's face before dying on his lips. The girl lying comfortably in his arms exhaled and pushed her hair behind her ears. The phone rang.  
  
"Damn." the girl muttered, her voice groggy from sleep. The phone rang two more times.  
  
"Leave us be," the boy grunted, snuggling in closer to the girl. She smiled and reluctantly pulled herself into a sitting position. He rolled over. She let the phone ring once more and then answered it.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Miss Spiro!"  
  
"Yes?" she asked, a little uneasy. She didn't recognize the voice.  
  
"Miss Casey Spiro! Hello! My name is Kim Kraus and I'm from the Charlotte Observer. I was at your movie premiere last night and I, along with most of the public eye I'm sure, am just dying to know," the reporter paused, presumably to breathe, "Who was that beautiful young man you were seen with last night?"  
  
Kim Kraus was talking so loud that Casey had to hold the phone away from her ear a bit. Casey bit her lip and looked at the sleeping figure next to her. For once, she was glad that the 'beautiful young man' could, and most likely would, sleep through the end of the world.  
  
The reporter too bit her lip in anticipation. Casey Spiro had been spotted a good number of times over the summer with the same guy. His hair was black and, as the gossip magazines were saying: "ravishingly askew". He also had the most gorgeous green eyes America had ever seen. No one knew his name, age, or anything about him really, but they had fallen in love with him. After all, anyone who gains the attention of America's biggest music-and since last night, movie-sensation must be someone of great importance. "I'm sorry, Ms Kraus, but I do not answer questions about my personal life." And with that she hung up just a little harder than she'd meant to.  
  
"It was just a reporter."  
  
Casey jumped. She hadn't thought Harry had been awake. 'Did he hear the conversation?' she wondered. 'Of course he did. The woman was only screaming.'  
  
"I know," she started. She slid back down into the bed. Harry had rolled back over to face her and his lips curled into a half-hearted smile. "But it's annoying. I don't like having people in my life, always making things up about me, making assumptions about my li-"  
  
"I know, Casey. I know." Harry said, remembering the incident with Rita Skeeter. His insides shuddered.  
  
"I know you know." She smiled and gave him a kiss. He tried to hide a small grimace. "What?"  
  
"Morning breath," he stated.  
  
She laughed softly and got out of bed to go brush her teeth. She pulled on a white silk robe that trailed behind her as she crossed to the right side of the room where the double doors to the bathroom were. It, too, was almost all white. White was her favorite color. To Casey, it symbolized purity, goodness, honesty, and strength. White would never give up. No matter what happened, white would always be there. White was also the easiest to dirty, as Harry had pointed out when she told him this. You can't hide anything from white, he'd also said. This was true, but white was also the most comforting to clean. You had to work to get everything off of it, but once you did and once you saw the purity and honesty and goodness and strength shining back at you again you felt like you had completed the world's most important task. She had told him this, and he had looked at her lips for a few moments and then told her that he should like to kiss her, as he always did when she proved him wrong.  
  
Once she got into the bathroom she decided that she would take a quick shower as well. Her shower was made of white marble flown over from Italy and could easily shower an average sized family in one go. She turned on the hot water and let the bathroom fill with steam. She went to go open a few windows so that the steam had somewhere to go, took off her robe and the light pink t-shirt and panties she'd been wearing to bed, and stepped into the shower. As she was massaging her head with some herbal shampoo she began to sing:  
  
L is for the way you look at me O is for the only one I see V is very, very extraordinary E is even more than anyone you adore And love is all that I can give to you Love is more than just a game for two Two in love can make it Take my heart and please don't break it Love was made for me and you.  
  
Back in the bedroom, Harry smiled to himself. He was lying on his back, his hands behind his head. The song Casey was singing was an old jazz lounge type song from a few generations back. It was the first song Casey had ever sung for him and he fell in love with it immediately. It was fun, it was uplifting, and its words had a purpose. Harry liked things that had a purpose. In fact, he believed that everything worth doing had a purpose. He wasn't much for doing things just because. He knew this annoyed Casey, who would go and stand in the rain just to make sure it was still wet, and had tried to ease up a bit. It was hard, though. In all honesty, Harry didn't really want to change. He had, to please Casey, but he would still never understand how she could live her life being so spontaneous and carefree. Harry thought her rather naïve at times. 'You think everyone except yourself is naïve!' Casey's words stung his thoughts. She had said so during one of their particularly intense fights. Harry was feeling down, as he did a lot, and had taken out some of his anger on Casey. He'd accused her of being immature and close-minded to the reality of life, or something similar to that. Harry couldn't remember what he'd said that actually started the fight, but he did remember what she'd said after that.  
  
"FUCK YOU!" Casey exploded. Harry looked horrified.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You heard me. Fuck. You." Her teeth were clenched.  
  
"I. Uh."  
  
"What? Does someone else showing anger scare you, Harry Potter? Honestly! You are not the only one in the world who's ever had a problem before! You think everyone except yourself is naïve!"  
  
"A problem?" Harry suddenly found his voice. "You think what I'm dealing with is a problem? This is no problem, Casey Spiro," he spat her name back at her, "this is my life."  
  
She glared at him and stormed into a chair across the kitchen. She had found Harry leaning on the counter, poking his pasta around on his plate. Casey had tried to be sympathetic with him. He blew up at her, though, and she became fed up.  
  
"A problem is running out of time to study for exams. A problem is not being able to catch the Hogwarts Express. A problem is." Harry obviously wasn't finished. "A problem is. not this." He was going to say 'worrying about your godfather having to spend Christmas alone' but couldn't form the words.  
  
Casey had a pretty good idea about what was running through his mind. He had abandoned his pasta and was approaching her with a menacing look in his eyes. As soon as he reached the head of the kitchen table he stopped and slumped into a chair. Casey was sitting at the other end in front of an extremely large glass window. Behind her the sun was setting over the Atlantic Ocean. Golden streaks of light danced about the table.  
  
"Want to talk about it?" She asked meekly, a few minutes later, looking down at her hands. She knew he wouldn't. She wanted to apologize for exploding, but her pride got in the way.  
  
"No." He looked down at his hands. He wanted to more than anything, but he couldn't bring himself to actually do it. He wanted to apologize for exploding, but his pride got in the way.  
  
They sat there like that for at least ten minutes. Every once and a while one would get the courage to look up at the other, who would either still be looking down or staring at some abstract object in another part of the room. Fed up with being uncomfortable, Casey spoke. "I'm really glad you came to me, Harry." He opened his mouth, closed it, and walked out of the room. Casey let her head hit the table, not caring if it hurt.  
  
That night their bed was colder than usual. The windows were closed and the curtains were shut. Everything that was once white in the room was now a steely grey or black. The only light in the room was the electric green sheen of her digital clock. It read 2:30. She sighed and lay on her back. There was no heavy breathing coming from the other side of the bed.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Ha-"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I didn't know if you were sleeping."  
  
"Why should you care? That's my problem. Not yours."  
  
She winced, followed by more silence. Harry got out of bed. A minute later she heard the toilet flush. One of the double doors creaked open and she rolled over in bed, the light from her clock casting an odd glow on her face. She felt the bed go down a bit. Still more silence.  
  
"Casey?"  
  
She tried hard not to answer him.  
  
"Casey?"  
  
She had to bite her lip.  
  
"Casey?"  
  
She bit her tongue.  
  
"I'm sorry, Casey."  
  
She let out a deep breath.  
  
"I-I really am. I'm sorry for exploding at you earlier. I'm sorry for just walking out of the room like that. It's just. I. I didn't want you to see me like that. And I'm sorry for snapping at you a minute ago. I really had no right to I just didn't know what else to-"  
  
"I'm really glad you came to me, Harry."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I am too."  
  
She rolled over so that she was facing him. Even though they could hardly see each other, she knew he was smiling. His left hand crept around her waist and pulled her close to him. She placed her right hand at the nape of his neck and kissed the tip of his nose, and then his cheek. He gave her little kisses from her forehead trailing down the bridge of her nose. Now it was his turn to know that she was smiling.  
  
"I love you."  
  
His entire body tensed.  
  
"Wh-what'd you say?"  
"I love you?"  
  
"Why?" he asked quickly.  
  
She let out a short, hollow laugh. "Because it's true."  
  
His breathing quickened. He could feel his mouth getting dry.  
  
"Never say that again."  
  
"What? But Harry, why?" she pulled away from him slightly.  
  
"Just. no." he got out of bed. He slept on the couch that night.  
  
The bathroom door opened. Casey sauntered out, her wet hair in a messy bun at the back of her head. Harry rushed past her and into the bathroom before she even had a chance to speak. She shrugged, figuring he just had to pee really bad. 'He could've used the other bathroom.' A voice nagged inside her head. 'But not while I'm in the shower, it would've made the water turn cold. He was being considerate.' She responded to herself.  
  
After getting dressed she went over to her calendar. It was one of those that you hang against the wall and had a page for you to tear off every day. She tore July 30th off of the wall. She felt like something was supposed to happen today, but just couldn't remember what. It was on the tip of her tongue. She almost had it. almost. it was right there. 'Isn't today-' but she was interrupted by a loud BANG on the windowpane. It had been peculiarly chilly last night and Harry had decided that they should keep the window only half open. She rushed over to the window, but didn't see anything. It sounded like something had hit the glass.  
  
"What was that?" Harry asked, bursting out of the bathroom, holding a towel around his waist and shampoo suds still in his hair.  
  
"I don't know!" Casey giggled at the sight of a sudsy Harry. "I was just trying to remember what was important about today, and then I heard a bang on the window. But nothing's there!"  
  
Harry looked at the window for a moment. There were smudge marks and a couple scratches on it. A worn feather was sticking out the bottom of the pane. "Errol!" he announced.  
  
"Huh?" Casey asked. But Harry had already run out of the room and down to the flower patio right below the window. He came back in a minute later cradling a scrappy looking owl in one hand and holding his towel in place with the other hand.  
  
"I'm going to go wash this stuff out of my hair. Watch Errol for me." He put the owl on the bed and then went back into the bathroom.  
  
Casey approached the bed cautiously. She had never seen an owl in real life before, let alone had one lying on her bed. It wasn't moving. She sat down on the very edge of the bed and eyed it suspiciously. It was grey, and looked oddly like a very old feather duster. Grasped firmly in its talons was an envelope made out of what looked like a very thick yellowish sort of paper. She could see a few specks of green writing on it. On top of the letter was a smaller bit of the same material the envelope was made out of, only this was almost a crème color and the ink was splotchy and black. Reaching over cautiously, she tapped the talons. Nothing. She did it again, only this time a little less gingerly. Nothing. She was going to try and pry them open, but at that moment Harry came out of the bathroom donning a pair of light grey sweatpants. Casey could see the rim of his boxers slipping out from underneath them.  
  
"Hello Errol!" Harry said happily, sitting down in the center of the bed and pulling the owl into his lap. "What do you have for me?" The owl didn't move.  
  
"Errol?" It still didn't move. "Hmm. must be sleeping," he thought out loud. He expertly took the two articles out of the owl's talons and leaned back against the mahogany headboard. Casey scooted over so she was sitting cross-legged next to him.  
  
"What'd he bring you?" she asked, eyeing the letters.  
  
"My school list," he said nonchalantly tossing the envelope down in front of him. "And a note from Ron."  
  
"Who's-" Casey started, but was distracted by the green lettering on the envelope. It stated, in sparkling green letters, Casey's address. sort of.  
  
Mr. H. Potter  
The Penthouse Overlooking The Ocean  
Spalding Avenue  
Boston, Massachusetts  
America  
  
Casey was thoroughly confused. She didn't have time to ask him if he'd given their address to anyone, however, because at that moment he picked up the envelope and placed the note where the envelope was. Not being able to stop herself, Casey read it.  
  
'Harry,  
I hope you're having a good time in America! Sorry we didn't owl earlier, but mum said we shouldn't. I hope Errol can get this to you. He's been looking pretty shabby lately. We would've sent Hedwig, but Dumbledore came by to personally drop off our school letters (which, by the way, Hermione wants me to tell you is most peculiar) and took Hedwig back to Hogwarts with him. She hasn't been eating much lately. I think she misses you, Harry. Well, we all miss you, that's for sure. Hermione can't wait until summer is over. We all have so much to catch up on. See you soon!  
- Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Mum, and Dad.  
  
PS: Do you have any idea why Dumbledore didn't just send you your letter directly from Hogwarts? - Hermione. PPS: Happy Birthday!  
  
If it was possible, Casey looked even more confused. A couple weeks after Harry had come to stay with her he had told her all about Hogwarts and Voldemort and how he was a wizard and about his late godfather, but he had never mentioned Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Dumbledore, or the fact that they used owls to send mail to each other. In retrospect, maybe he hadn't told her that much at all. She read over the note again, stopping on the last line. That was it! That was what she was trying to remember! Today was Harry's birthday! But not just any birthday. it was his sixteenth birthday! Today, Harry Potter became a man. And today, Casey was going to make sure it was official.  
  
"Sixteen."  
  
Draco Malfoy turned to face his father, Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"Sixteen," his father repeated. Draco didn't say anything. He set his jaw and sat down on the padded windowsill.  
  
"Six-"  
  
"I heard you the first time, father."  
  
"And why do you suppose I keep on repeating it?"  
  
"To drive me mad?" Draco smirked, but did not look at Lucius.  
  
"Anything worth remembering bears repeating, Draco. Harry Potter is sixteen today."  
  
"So? Would you like me to send him a gift?"  
  
"Will it kill him?"  
  
"Does anything?"  
  
Lucius sneered. "Then no. I am telling you this because he is sixteen. Sixteen years he has lived, and at the rate things are going he will continue to live sixteen more years."  
Draco didn't see where this was going.  
  
"Right under your nose," his father finished.  
  
Oh.  
  
"It's not my fault-"  
  
"Silence, Draco!" His father's voice grew icy. "For five years now you have known what you have to do. And for five years now you have yet to do it."  
  
"But-"  
  
"I said, hush!"  
  
"I realize your task is not the easiest, or the cleanest," Lucius brushed some invisible lint off of the sleeve of his velvet black robes at this. "But it is your task. The Dark Lord has given it to you," he paused. "Now, do you really want to disappoint The Dark Lord?"  
  
"No father." Draco continued to look out the window, but his gaze was lower to the ground now.  
  
"Very well, then. We received your school letter today. Would you like to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow afternoon?"  
  
"Yes father," Draco replied, knowing it was a command disguised as a question.  
  
"I shall inform your mother. We will talk about your task in further detail tomorrow." And with that he left the room, leaving Draco sitting alone in front of the window. If the weather were programmed to match his mood it would've been sleeting outside. 


	2. Chapter Two

Take Notice  
© OnceUponACrime  
  
Chapter Two  
Firsts  
  
"Do you think it's dead?" Harry asked, poking the owl with his index finger.  
  
"It's not breathing, Harry. How many things do you know of that can live without breathing?" Casey asked Harry and raised a thin brown eyebrow at him.  
  
Harry shook his head solemnly and said, "Ron's going to be so upset."  
  
"So that's his owl?"  
  
Harry nodded. The both sat on the bed staring at the creature and waiting for it to move. After a minute or two of this Casey sighed loudly and slid off of the bed.  
  
"Well, I don't know about you, Mr. Potter, but I am not going to spend your sixteenth birthday sitting in bed staring at a dead owl," she said and Harry laughed. Casey spun around and gave him her 'yes, I know I'm funny, but seriously. why are you laughing?' glare. She had a gift of speaking entire sentences without ever opening her mouth.  
  
"I forgot today was my birthday," he replied in answer to her unspoken question.  
  
"Harry! How could you forget something like that? Sixteen is a BIG year!" she exclaimed, pretending to be mad. This made Harry laugh even harder. "Ugh!" She pouted her hands on her hips.  
  
"I'm sorry. but. your face. you. mad. impossible." he managed to sputter out.  
  
"It's not that funny!"  
  
Harry just nodded and kept on laughing. In all reality, Casey was right. It wasn't that funny, but he hadn't really laughed in a long time, and all of his pent up happiness just started spilling out leaving Harry with no way to stop it. Tired of having Harry laugh at her, Casey tackled him so that he was now lying on his back and in the next moment her tongue had forced itself into his mouth.  
  
Well, there's one way to solve the problem.  
  
Harry lifted his hands to Casey's shoulder length, light brown hair and entangled his fingers in it, pushing her head down and deepening the kiss all at the same time. Her hair was so rich and thick, yet managed to look smooth and sleek all at once. This confused Harry in a way he really didn't mind. Casey went to move into a more comfortable position but as she did her foot slipped on the smooth sheets and she kicked the owl to the ground.  
  
"OH MY GOD!" She screamed, pulling away from Harry immediately.  
  
"What? What?" He asked, furrowing his brows and looking down at his sweatpants. He sighed in relief. Everything was still in order. 'Wouldn't that have been embarrassing?' He smiled to himself. 'She might not mind.'  
  
"My foot! My foot! My foot touched. it!" She squealed, pointing to where the owl had fallen off of the bed.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "It's only a dead owl, Quesadilla," he said, using his favorite nickname for her. She looked at him, eyes wide in utter horror.  
  
"It might have germs!" She whispered frantically.  
  
"Everything has germs."  
  
Casey looked around the room, eyes searching for a good answer. ". Nuh uh!"  
  
"Has anyone ever told you that you are very suave?" Harry smirked.  
  
"Never. But they have told me that I am very hungry, which I am. Let's eat!"  
  
Harry chuckled at her liveliness. "Alright. What do you want?"  
  
"Oh no you don't, mister," she said. "It's your birthday. What do you want?"  
  
"A couple of bacon sandwiches would be nice."  
  
"Harry Potter. It is your birthday and all you want for breakfast are bacon sandwiches? I don't think so." She paused. "Now what do you really want?"  
  
"Hmm." he stroked his chin with his left hand. A few hairs were threatening to break through the skin. "Four blueberry pancakes, a Denver style omelet, scrambled eggs with bits of sausage in them, two chocolate chip waffles, fried potatoes, a couple pieces of French toast, and a few bacon sandwiches."  
  
Casey gaped at him. "Would you like a new pant size with that as well?"  
  
"Hey! Maybe Dudley's clothes would finally fit properly," he said, winking at her. Casey sighed.  
  
"Well, I'd better get going on that then-"  
  
"Wait!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You. you're cooking?" Harry gulped. The last time Casey had tried to cook for him had been about a month ago. She had surprised him with what should have been blackened Peking Duck on a bed of Jasmine rice sprinkled in cheese and served with fresh spring rolls on the side. When he actually got his meal the bird was more blackened than it was duck, the rice was either chewy or hard (Harry still couldn't decide), the cheese was most likely the sharpest kind ever made, and Harry never actually even saw the spring rolls. It was the worst meal he'd ever forced himself to eat.  
  
"Good God, no!" Casey exclaimed. "When I said 'I'd better get going on that then' I obviously meant 'I'd better get going on telling the cook to get going on that then'." Harry exhaled, loudly, and couldn't help but hide his obviously relieved smile.  
  
Half an hour later Casey and Harry sat on the back porch of Casey's ocean front penthouse. They were finishing up the last of the bacon sandwiches together while talking randomly about the people on the beach below.  
  
"What do you think about her?" Casey asked, pointing casually to a very tanned blonde in a barely-there red bikini.  
  
"Eh."  
  
"Eh?" Casey turned right in her white-pillowed patio chair in order to face him. "Are you sure you're not gay?"  
  
"Positive." He placed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. "She's not my type. She's too. showy. She looks like the kind of girl who knows she's hot on the outside, but who's really insecure on the inside," like Cho, he added inwardly. "I'll bet she feels like she always has to put up a front, live up to standards, that sort of thing," not that I wouldn't know what that was like, he concluded to himself. He finished chewing his sandwich, swallowed, and took a drink of ice water. "I'd never know what to say around a girl like that, so I'd probably just end up either avoiding her or being mean to her." They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the cool summer breeze play with their clothes and hair.  
  
"What about those two?" Harry asked, pointing to an African American couple walking slowly along the waterfront. The tide was licking their ankles and they were holding hands. The man whispered something to the woman. She threw her head back and laughed. Harry caught his breath. It was a very soulful laugh. A part of him wished Casey would laugh like that. 'But her giggle is very cute.' He assured himself.  
  
"What about them?"  
  
"Do you think they're in love?"  
  
"Sure?"  
  
"Casey. c'mon. I'm being serious."  
  
"Okay. yes."  
  
"How come?"  
  
"I don't know. They look happy."  
  
"So looking happy constitutes being in love?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Well, I look happy," he started. "But I'm not in love with you."  
  
Casey looked at Harry as if he had just tried to kill her.  
  
"Wh-hat?" was all she could manage to squeak out. Harry could see the tears bulging in the corner of her eyes.  
  
"Oh shit. Shit, Casey. Damn, I didn't mean it like that," he cursed.  
  
"How the hell did you mean it then?" she shrieked, letting the tears free.  
  
"I-um-I-well-uh-" he mumbled quickly. 'How DID you mean it, Harry?' That stupid voice was back again.  
  
She glared at him and then ran inside, her shoulders shaking in silent sobs.  
  
"DAMMIT!" Harry yelled, throwing his glass down onto the beach below. Tears were forming in his eyes, but he blinked them away furiously.  
  
A thundercloud rumbled somewhere in close proximity. The lifeguard blew his whistle. Everyone was to get off of the beach.  
  
~*~  
  
There were chickens in the front yard. There were also lawn gnomes, but to Ronald Weasley, the chickens were much more interesting. They clucked, they strutted, and they smelled something awful. They laid eggs for breakfast and cakes, they were plucked to re-stuff worn pillows, and once they were just right they'd be slaughtered and cooked into a potpie. Yet they flapped around the front yard completely oblivious to the fact that they only lived to be eaten.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Hmm?" Ron murmered.  
  
"I asked," Hermione Granger said, looking up from her parchment, "what were you thinking about?"  
  
"Oh. Chickens," Ron said.  
  
Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him, and said: "You've been staring out that window for a good half hour thinking about. chickens?"  
  
"Do you think they think they can fly?"  
  
"Of course not," she answered as she placed her quill down on the sturdy wooden table. "Everyone knows chickens can't fly."  
  
"Well sure, we know that," he said as he looked at her, and then continued: "but do you think they know that?"  
  
Hermione just stared at him.  
  
"I mean, why else would they flap around like that?" Ron asked, his eyes going back to a pair of white hens chasing each other around, squawking loudly and flapping their wings as if their lives depended on it.  
  
Hermione shook her head and went back to her work. "They're only chickens, Ron. They obviously don't care, so neither should you." Aside from a somewhat annoyed sigh, the kitchen was silent for what seemed like forever.  
  
"I miss Harry," Ron mused.  
  
"We both do," Hermione said, a little half-heartedly, not looking up from her book and parchment. Ron tried to hide his anger, but failed considerably.  
  
"Oh, would you just lay off it for a second?" he asked, exasperated. Finally, she looked up, trying to disguise her shock. "You've been here for a whole week and all you've done is read and write owls to your parents and work on that stupid. whatever it is you're working on."  
  
Hermione couldn't think of anything to say, so she looked down at her quill. Ron continued. "I mean, I invited you over to stay with me until the term starts because we never see each other outside of school. I wanted to show you that I can be a much different person when I'm not sha-" he stopped himself, "when I'm not in school."  
  
Hermione had the strangest feeling he meant to say: 'when I'm not shadowed by Harry.' but she kept her mouth shut. "You're right Ron."  
  
"And another thing-huh? I am?" Ron asked in amazement. "Wicked." He smiled proudly. She laughed softly.  
  
"You're right, Ron," Hermione elaborated. "It was very considerate of you to invite me here, and I've done nothing but study and seclude myself. It's just that I don't have any brothers and sisters at home, and my parents work, so this is what I do when I'm at home. I get into a book and I'm alone in the house so the book just sort of. amplifies it. You see?"  
  
"Yes," he lied.  
  
"You don't have a clue what I'm talking about, do you?"  
  
"Not one," he said, smiling. Both of their cheeks flushed a tiny bit.  
  
"I'm tired of studying," she said, suddenly closing her parchment inside her book and placing her quill on top of it. Ron's eyes went wide.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Mmhmm."  
  
"Never thought I'd see the day," she heard him mutter under his breath. She smiled to herself. Most people at Hogwarts thought she was nothing but a bossy know-it-all. She was bossy and she was a know it all, but she wasn't completely oblivious. She knew when she was being bossy, she knew when she corrected someone and it got on their nerves, she knew all of these things and more. It was part of her personality, though, and Ron and Harry had been the only two people who could ever see past that part. Ginny was catching up to them, but Hermione secretly hoped the only Weasley girl would never fully catch up. She enjoyed her camaraderie with her best friends.  
  
When Ron sent her the owl asking her to come visit, she had hardly given her decision to join him a second thought. Just the thought of being alone with Ron, without Harry, intrigued her in deeper way that she couldn't quite put into words. She knew Ron was different without Harry there. It wasn't a drastic difference, but if you cared to look close enough, you could write volumes on that subject alone. So when that owl came, she took this as her once in a lifetime opportunity and packed her bags. Now she'd been there almost a week and her cold feet had pushed her into the comfort zone that was her studies. Guilt overcame her.  
  
"So, what are some of Ron Weasley's favorite places?" Hermione asked, wanting to move on to a more pleasant topic.  
  
Ron's smiling eyes met hers. "Well, there's this spot over the hill in the backyard. It's really nice there. I always go there to think. I bet my brothers are up there now, though. I heard them saying something about new merchandise testing, and that's the only place they can really go where mum won't let loose on them."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron's twin older brothers-Fred and George- were taking a one week holiday from their company, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. They'd left Hogwarts in the middle of last year, made quite a show of it actually, and used the money Harry had won from the Triwizard Tournament to start up their joke shop. Even though she strongly despised practical jokes, the twins were happier than ever, which is to say a lot seeing as Hermione could only name a small handful of times when they were sad. Even when the entire school thought Harry was the Heir of Slytherin back in their second year the two laughed and led Harry through the school taking jabs at him. Harry. 'Bugger. Why do my thoughts always go back to Harry? I'm here to see Ron.' She admonished herself.  
  
Suddenly Ron stood up and slammed his palms down on top of the back of Hermione's hands, though it wasn't nearly as violent as it sounds. "I've got the perfect place!"  
  
~*~  
  
Draco Malfoy walked out of Knockturn Alley. He walked, lost in thought, and eventually sighed haughtily as he sat down on the topmost step leading into Gringotts. He rested his pointy chin in his right hand and propped his elbow up on his right knee.  
  
"Why so glum?" a female voice called from behind. Draco recognized it immediately: Pansy Parkinson.  
  
"Why so ugly?"  
  
She laughed and sat down next to Draco. He didn't know why she was so happy; he was serious.  
  
"Not excited to go back to Hogwarts?"  
  
"I was quite enjoying my Potter-free summer, thank you very much," Draco sneered, rolling his eyes. He would put up with Pansy at school, he'd even found her likeable once or twice. Conversing with her outside of school, however, was completely unnecessary.  
  
"Speaking of Harry Potter," Pansy said in a hushed tone and turned her body so she was now facing Draco. "Guess what I heard?"  
  
He tripped over his big, beautiful head and fell off the London Bridge. and into my arms? Anticipation coursed through Draco's veins.  
  
"What?" he asked smoothly, hiding his excitement.  
  
"He's in America. He's been there all summer."  
  
Draco was disappointed, but intrigued at the same time. It was a strange feeling. "Why? And where did you hear that?"  
  
"I overheard Cho Chang talking about it. She sounded really miffed," Pansy said with a sadistic grin. She'd never really liked Cho Chang and enjoyed pulling a little bit of that shiny black hair out every chance she got.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes again. Pansy had completely ignored his first question. He did not like to be ignored. "Since when do Slytherins go anywhere near Ravenclaws?"  
  
Pansy gave Draco a look that he couldn't read and then, smirking, said, "Since they started talking about your favorite subject."  
  
Draco paled and then immediately flushed. He found himself incredibly interested in the side of the world not facing Pansy and her all-knowing look.  
  
~*~  
  
Hermione picked the last petal off of her purple daisy. 'He loves me not.' She sighed dejectedly and started on a bright red one. The daisies grew in every color imaginable around the tiny pond where Ron had taken her. The entire waterfront was brimming with daisies of every color which wer encompassed by long, soft grass and the birch tree that Ron and Hermione were now leaning against. All of this was surrounded by pussy willows and large, white, feathery plants neither Ron nor Hermione could identify.  
  
"Isn't this nice?" Ron asked, watching a mother duck teach her babies how to dive under the water for food.  
  
"Mmm."  
  
'He loves me.'  
  
"I always come here when I want to be alone. I've actually never shared this place with anyone before you." He paused. "I promised myself I wouldn't tell anyone about it, ever, not even my future wife or children. But, I dunno Hermione, when I'm with you, I don't feel like I'm here with someone else. I feel like I'm still alone."  
  
She pulled out two red petals at one time. 'He loves me. He loves me not.'  
  
"I mean that in a good way, of course." Ron added as an afterthought.  
  
'He loves me.'  
  
"Of course," she replied absentmindedly, a smile on her face.  
  
"Hey Hermione?"  
  
"Hey Ron?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Hermione giggled. "Nothing Ron, I was just. never mind." She rolled her eyes playfully. Since they were leaning against opposite sides of the white-trunked tree, Ron didn't see her.  
  
"Oh. okay. hey Herm?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I was just thinking."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well. erm."  
  
Hermione turned around so that she was now kneeling on the soft grass. Ron mimicked her.  
  
"What is it, Ron?" Her weight was on her hands. Ron followed suit.  
  
"It's just-"  
  
"Yes?" Hermione's eyes grew wide, she bit her lip. It's now or never, she thought with a somewhat wavering confidence.  
  
Ron took a deep breath. Then, at the same time, both him and Hermione leaned in, each expecting to take the lead.  
  
"Ow!" They said in unison. Having closed their eyes, they'd bumped noses.  
  
Ron leaned back, his right hand holding his upper body up while his left rubbed his freckled nose. He cursed inwardly. That was definitely not how he'd wanted this to work out. Absolutely positive that the moment was ruined, he opened his eyes, expecting to see Hermione staring at him-mouth wide with horror-with a look of absolute disgust all over her unique features. What he saw, though, was a pair of big brown eyes staring intently at him. Hermione's eyes weren't actually all that big, but their faces were so close that they became all he could see before-  
  
Ron Weasley was in heaven.  
  
~*~  
  
Harry Potter was in hell. The wind was hurtling sheets of rain against the locked windows. He hadn't seen or heard from Casey once since she'd stormed off on him.  
  
"How could you be so thick?" Harry asked himself aloud.  
  
"It's not so hard."  
  
Harry jumped. He spun around from his seat on the large, overstuffed white leather couch he was slumped on. Casey's personal assistant, Niki Allem, was standing under the archway that connected the kitchen to the main room. Her blonde hair was matted against her body and the tips were leaving wet spots on the front of her light t-shirt, making her bra clearly visible. Niki was holding a sopping wet umbrella in her left hand and had a particularly annoyed look on her face. Harry couldn't decide if it was because she was drenched, or because of him, or maybe a little bit of both.  
  
"Sorry to scare you," she apologized half-heartedly, "but my damn car wouldn't start. I was just across the street and didn't feel like getting soaked trying to fight the rain for five blocks just to climb about 20 fucking flights of stairs-yeah, the elevator is fucking broke down again, the piece of shit-" she ranted, her Boston accent and attitude resonating very clearly. She looked down at her sopping self, gave an ironic sort of laugh, dropped the umbrella in the middle of the floor, and walked into Casey's bedroom, pulling her shirt off as she walked. Harry shook his head in a weird sort of amusement and then went back to staring vacantly at whatever channel he had been too lazy to change.  
  
"Today in Entertainment!" A very bubbly Oriental girl chirped at him, "Today, the megastar Casey Spiro was spotted for the first time this summer without her boy toy-who remains nameless."  
  
Harry snorted. He certainly felt like Casey's boy toy. 'So what if I don't love her? I mean, I'm obviously attracted to her. It's not like I told her I think she's ugly and smells like cheese or anything. I mean. I don't think I love her. How could I? I don't even know what it feels like to be in love. I've heard it's supposed to feel like a bang or something, and sure, Casey makes me feel very happy and safe, but. no bang.'  
  
"So where's The Little Princess?" Niki interrupted Harry's private monologue. Niki, at twenty-five, was considerably older than Casey, who was just seventeen a month ago. Of course, this made Niki a full nine years older than Harry, which made him feel-at best-like a naïve and inexperienced little boy.  
  
"Dunno."  
  
Niki snorted and flopped down next to Harry. She had put on one of Casey's white American Eagle sweatshirts and had taken off her heavy jeans. A pair of royal blue cheerleading shorts took their place. Harry couldn't help but glance more than once at her teasingly long and unnaturally tan legs. Niki wasn't exactly pretty (her teeth were yellowed from smoking, which was also starting to prematurely wrinkle her skin), but damn; the woman had great legs.  
  
"Why'd she leave?" she asked, stealing the remote and changing the channels, stopping on MTV.  
  
"Dunno." Harry lied.  
  
"Do you know anything?"  
  
Harry shrugged and stared at the TV. Real World was on. In this particular episode The Maybe Virgin and The Pretty Boy snuck off and got drunk and ended up kissing, thinking they'd lost the camera crew. Harry wished that he were The Pretty Boy right then; he'd developed quite a crush on The Supposedly Virginal cast member. It seemed to be a habit he'd formed over the past year-falling for the innocent types. Cho Chang, his first real crush and kiss, seemed like a complete sweetheart. until you actually talked to her, that is. Harry could only blame her rollercoaster emotions on the loss of Cedric for so long. Eventually, he'd come to the conclusion that she was just a mental case. After Cho came Casey. To Harry, Casey Spiro was the personification of sugar, spice, and everything nice. He really hadn't had any more crushes on girls he actually knew, but almost every sweet girl he saw on TV or in a magazine made his heart twinge.  
  
"When'd she leave?" Niki asked, lighting up a cigarette.  
  
"This morning."  
  
Niki's eyes went wide and she exhaled a large cloud of smoke right into Harry's face. He screwed up his eyes and tried not to breathe it in.  
  
"Harry. it's almost eight o' clock. She's probably been gone almost twelve hours, then?" Harry nodded, still watching Real World. "Damnit. That is not going to reflect well on me." Niki continued to curse under her breath. Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
"Why do you work for her?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Why do you work for Casey? It's obvious you don't like her. You're just lucky she's too naïve to realize it."  
  
Niki gave him a scrutinizing look. "Money is money." A pause. "Has anyone ever told you that you're way too perceptive for a sixteen year old?"  
  
"Aww, you remembered my birthday." Harry said, voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
Niki snorted again. "It's kind of hard for me not to. It was all Casey ever fucking talked about for the past month."  
  
'And you ruined it.' Harry really wished that voice would go away.  
  
The smoke from Niki's cigarette was drying out Harry's throat. As he walked into the kitchen he thought he heard the sound of a key fiddling in the lock, which was located almost immediately to the right of the large, wood paneled fridge. Regarding the sound as nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him, Harry reached into the fridge, got a bottle of water, opened it, took a few hearty chugs, and then closed the door again.  
  
The water bottle hit the floor. Water was streaming everywhere.  
  
"Casey." Harry whispered hoarsely. Sure enough, right in front of his very eyes, stood a chilled to the bone, blue lipped, Casey. Her clothes stuck to her in ways they shouldn't have, her hair was nothing more than a natty mess, and mascara was streaming down her face.  
  
"I-" But she didn't have a chance to finish. Harry had enveloped her, pulling her as close to him as was humanly possible. His lips encased hers, not initially out of lust, but as a clever method of warming hers up again. She shivered, and Harry started to run his hands up and down her sides, arms, and back. They continued there for a good fifteen minutes, neither noticing-or caring-when Niki picked up her umbrella, gathered up her wet clothes, and left.  
  
"Harry," Casey panted, finally having the strength to pull away from him. "About earlier-"  
  
"No," he said between soft kisses. "We. are not. going. to talk. about. that. ever." he was kissing her forehead, then her nose, then her cheeks, now just her bottom lip, and then only the right corner of her mouth. Casey found this very stimulating, and Harry knew it.  
  
"But-"  
  
"I said no." He pulled away from her and looked straight into her eyes. She nodded. She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her forehead against his.  
  
"I'm going to go take a bath."  
  
"I'm coming with you." He kissed her with feeling. She smiled against his lips.  
  
"You've got mascara on your face." She giggled softly, reaching up to wipe the smear off of his cheekbone. He stopped her hand by lacing his fingers with hers.  
  
"Leave it." She nodded, unable to stop looking into his eyes.  
  
"Uhn." Casey moaned, arching her neck. Harry was hovering over her, kissing her neck as if it was the most important thing in the world. After making sure he'd leave a few nice marks on both sides of her neck in the morning he moved down to her collarbone. His fingertips were walking in circles around her navel, occasionally taking a holiday a little south of the border. Casey squirmed underneath him causing water and bubble bath to traipse over the side of the large marble tub and onto the floor. "Harry. Harry."  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Oh god. Harry. I."  
  
Harry looked up at her, she couldn't possibly be. no, she couldn't be. He hadn't even really done anything yet.  
  
"Harry. I. I'm getting really wrinkly," she said. They stared at each other for a second, neither of them really sure that she'd actually just said that. Then they both started laughing. Their laughter was simultaneous and husky and full of lusting for more.  
  
"Let's get you dry, then," Harry said, pulling a towel around his waist as he stood up in the tub. She stood up too, not bothering to cover her naked, wet, and a little soapy body. She whispered into his ear, giving it a little tug with her teeth and running her hands up the sides of his legs  
  
"I'd rather be wet," she almost-purred, grinning lasciviously.  
  
Harry's mouth went dry. He'd never heard her sound like that before. She sounded like a woman, and Harry had to fight to keep himself from tackling her right then and there.  
  
Casey smirked seductively. Her fingers were walking in circles all around Harry's hipbone, just like he was doing to her navel before they stood up.  
  
It wasn't until a couple moments later that Harry Potter realized he was standing, completely naked, in a bathtub with a wonderfully nude Casey Spiro. He looked down. His towel was slowly becoming filled with water. It sank to the bottom of the tub. As if by some sort of miracle, Casey's body was now pressed fully against his, her fingers dancing in the hair at the nape of his neck (which always got curly when wet). Suddenly, her body was leading his towards the bed, both of them leaving wet footprints in the plush carpet.  
  
Something inside Harry's mind snapped back into place. He was suddenly very aware of every inch of her body and how each individual section was interacting with his. He lifted her onto the bed and then crawled under the covers. Somehow he was still cold. She followed and resumed her place underneath him.  
  
"Now where was I?" Harry breathed slowly onto the hollow of her neck, his fingers teasing her body. Casey lifted his head up to hers, kissed him enthusiastically and then flipped him over so that he was lying on his back. Normally, she wouldn't have been able to do that, but his body was feeling unnaturally pliable at the moment. She kissed him again, but instead of pulling away from the kiss she licked his bottom lip and then licked a straight line all the way down to his navel. It was an unusual feeling, being licked, but Harry was definitely not opposed to it. His body had decided to let Casey know that, too. She moaned, just for effect, and then took him in her mouth.  
  
Harry grunted and arched his back. His mind was racing, and even though Casey had done this to him quite a few times before, something about tonight made it feel like the first time all over again. She worked her magic for a while longer, and then life as Harry knew it ceased to exist. It was a wonderful feeling, and it was one he fully intended on sharing. Casey was kissing his mouth again, and when he let his tongue into her hot mouth he could vaguely taste himself.  
  
Feeling a shock of confidence, he rolled her over and hovered over her, much like he had done in the tub. He balanced himself on his elbows- one on each side of her body, and looked into her eyes. She met his gaze. Her confidence scared him and he started to doubt himself. They stared at each other, not moving, not kissing, not anything, until finally Casey wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and whispered.  
  
"I'm ready."  
  
"I-I've never done this before." Harry trailed off, feeling very young all of the sudden.  
  
"Me neither."  
  
For some reason, Harry was shocked. He didn't let it show, though, having enough wits to know that that would definitely put a damper on the mood.  
  
"Okay." He said rather stupidly. His heart was beating in his ears. Wanting desperately to drown it out, he kissed Casey aggressively. She kissed back, obviously feeling the same way. Casey hooked her legs around Harry's back and with his mind focusing on the kiss, his body took over.  
  
~*~  
  
"Harry. Harry!"  
  
Feeling the need to grasp onto something that she couldn't make bleed, Casey flung her right hand out and clenched the side of the bed; not without hitting her hand on her radio, however. It blared into the room, mid-song, and gave their awkward and fumbling climax a soundtrack.  
  
Hands down, this is the best day I can ever  
Remember, always remember, the sound of the  
Stereo, the dim of the soft lights, the scent of your  
Hair that you twirled in your fingers, and the time  
On the clock, when we realized it's  
So late, and this walk that we shared together.  
  
The streets were wet, and the gate was locked,  
So I jumped it, and I let you in.  
  
And you stood at your door, with your hands on  
My waist, and you kissed me like you meant it,  
And I knew that you meant it.  
  
"Hands Down" - Dashboard Confessional 


	3. Chapter Three

Take Notice  
© OnceUponACrime  
  
Chapter Three  
Explanations  
  
It was a particularly chilly August day at the Burrow. Ron picked up a long piece of grass from the lawn of his (and more recently Hermione's) secret spot and chewed on it thoughtfully. Hermione picked a white daisy, put it behind her left ear, and then laid her head down on Ron's chest. He smiled and ran his fingers through her frizzy curls.  
  
"I like that you have thick hair," he thought out-loud.  
  
"Why's that?" Hermione chuckled.  
  
"It keeps my fingers warm."  
  
"I see," she said, placing her own fingers in her sweatshirt pocket. "It's rather cold today, isn't it?"  
  
"D'you know, I was just thinking that. I hope it warms up by tomorrow. I want to play some Quidditch with Harry."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened and she said, "He comes home tomorrow? I'd completely forgotten." She blushed.  
  
"Mum sure didn't," Ron mused, rolling his eyes. "She's been running all over the place charming things clean and cooking enough food to feed the entire Order. I had to clean my room at least six times before dinner." There was a pause. "Of course, I'm sure you noticed," Ron added.  
  
"Mmm, nope," Hermione said, shaking her head softly. "I was reading."  
  
"Surprise, surprise."  
  
Hermione let out a small laugh and then reached up and took one of Ron's hands in her own. His freckled fingers instinctively laced through her petite ones.  
  
"This has been a really wonderful three weeks, Ron," Hermione said, wiggling her fingers absentmindedly.  
  
"For once, I agree with you." Ron smirked and then sighed. "It'll be great to see Harry again, though. I'm sure he has tons of stories to tell us."  
  
"Oh yes, I'm sure of it," Hermione agreed.  
  
There was a thoughtful silence in which both of them were thinking the same thing but neither had to courage to actually say it: The past few weeks that they had been alone had been so wonderful that they weren't entirely sure they wanted Harry back just yet.  
  
~*~  
  
Harry grunted and sat on top of his trunk. The lid barely closed and Harry had to push all of his bodyweight downward to keep the lid from opening up and sending him flying.  
  
"Okay, try it now," he said through gritted teeth. Casey put down her magazine and struggled with the clasps on either side of Harry's legs.  
  
"I think. I. have it!" She exclaimed, standing back and clapping her hands in excitement. The two had spent the last twenty minutes arranging and rearranging Harry's things in his trunk so that it would close properly.  
  
Harry relaxed and sighed in relief. No more than two seconds later the trunk gave a large groan and Harry found himself being flipped backwards onto the bed and was sent rolling onto the floor with an 'UMPH!' Casey was on the floor, too, except she was rolling in hysterical giggles.  
  
"I don't think it's going to cooperate," Harry said slowly, rubbing his head as he stood up. "I wouldn't blame it, though. You really didn't need to buy me all this stuff." He motioned to the trunk with his other hand. The large box was filled to the brim with recently bought clothes and shoes and various other items Casey had insisted that Harry couldn't possibly live without.  
  
"But you look so handsome in them," Casey cooed, getting up and walking over to Harry. She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him three times. Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that they wore robes at school and no one would see any of the new things she bought for him except the shoes. Of course, he was also somewhat preoccupied at the moment.  
  
An hour later and the two of them were lying in bed together, their clothes (and the open trunk) lying forgotten on the floor. Casey's head was resting in the crook of his right arm and his hand was massaging the small of her back.  
  
"Was it good for you?" Casey yawned and snuggled in closer, absorbing Harry's body heat. He nodded and yawned too as he closed his arms around her naked body.  
  
They'd had sex a few more times since his birthday and each time they had gotten better and better at it. The first time had been awkward and fumbling and they'd forgotten to use protection. Casey helped put Harry's mind at ease the next morning by going on the pill. Still, Harry had gone out that afternoon and bought a box of condoms. It was somewhat embarrassing-the woman at the checkout counter was extremely old and kept muttering about "the youth of today" and "no morals" under her breath-but after realizing their mistake the first time Harry wanted to take every precaution to make sure he wouldn't be called 'Daddy!' before he graduated. Besides, he wouldn't be seeing Casey for a very long time (if ever again) once he left for England and he didn't even want to imagine the guilt he'd feel if he got a girl thousands of miles away pregnant.  
  
"I don't want you to go," Casey whispered into Harry's neck. "I love you and I don't want you to leave me. ever."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Harry?" Casey opened her eyes and looked up at his face.  
  
He was asleep.  
  
~*~  
  
Harry flinched-and hoped it went unnoticed-when he felt a hot tear hit his shoulder blade. He made like he was muttering in his sleep and rolled over so that his back was now facing Casey and continued to pretend he was sleeping. He hadn't really been asleep when Casey told him that she loved him. He wasn't asleep when she looked up just seconds after he'd hastily closed his eyes, and he certainly wasn't asleep when she started crying on him.  
  
He'd only been pretending. It was something he'd become very good at over the summer.  
  
When he first met Casey she had bugged him to no end. She was too happy for her own good, Harry thought. Casey had had life handed to her on a silver platter. She didn't know what it was like to be thought of as something vile, to be locked away and sneered at, to be constantly picked out from the crowd just because of who you were.  
  
Harry sighed and screwed his eyes shut even further. She does know, he told himself. And that was what had made him grow to accept Casey. After writing several very angry and lengthy letters to Dumbledore asking why the old man had chosen her for him to stay with all summer, and after realizing that he had no way of getting them to Dumbledore, and after watching them burn in the fireplace with a malicious grin on his face (which he duplicated once while looking in the mirror and then decided that maybe he really should've been put into Slytherin), and after having a few good, private cries he'd decided that maybe. just maybe, he could pretend to like Casey.  
  
So he did. The next day-it'd been a week since he'd arrived shaken and confused on her doorstep-he made the first move. He said "Hello. Wonderful morning, isn't it?" over his bacon and eggs. She looked so shocked that Harry couldn't help himself; he laughed. And I suppose the rest is history, Harry thought, looking at the shadow of his pants lying on the floor and suddenly feeling very self-conscious.  
  
~*~  
  
Albus Dumbledore was not the kind of man that one might normally find in an airport, but there he was, waiting patiently in line behind a woman with five vehemently excited toddlers. He held quite a few bags of lemon drops in one hand and a large, black, leather bound book in the other. The blonde woman attempted to herd her children over to the food court only to find herself tripping over her smallest son and dropping all the sweets she held in her arms. Her children all started crying and screaming over the ruined treats.  
  
"Will that be all, sir?" The Latina woman behind the counter asked politely. Albus eyed the fallen woman and his eyes sparkled with pity behind his half-moon glasses.  
  
"Yes," he said, not taking his eyes off of the blonde. She was pulling herself up hastily and trying to regain control of her children. They were starting to attract a crowd.  
  
The Latina put his candy and the book in a plastic bag and took the American money Albus had gotten in exchange for a large pile of galleons. She gave him his change and said, "Next!"  
  
"Excuse me," Albus said softly, crossing over the tired mother and placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and glared wildly at him.  
  
"Yeah? What'd you want? Huh?" She exclaimed.  
  
Albus smiled and took the black leather book out of the bag. He then handed the rest of its contents to the woman. She looked at him warily and then snatched it from him. Immediately all her kids ran up and started pulling on her arms so they could see what was in the bag.  
  
"Candy!"  
  
"Lemon drops!"  
  
"Mmm!"  
  
All five of the children were squealing in delight and pulling out bags of lemon drops. There were just enough so that each could have their own bag and there was still one left. The woman picked the small bag up gingerly and looked at it for a minute. Albus chuckled at the children's antics. The crowd of travelers that had gathered around the noisy bunch had dispersed.  
  
"I. thank you," she said, smiling in astonishment and running a hand over the top of her dried out hair.  
  
"You're welcome," Albus returned with a smile, gently pulling the smallest of the children off of the tip of his beard and turning around to walk away.  
  
He didn't get very far, though. Standing only a few feet behind him was a dark-haired boy with a large trunk and a girl in sunglasses and a baseball hat clinging to his arm. The boy stared at him for a few minutes as if trying to decide how, or if, he should approach him.  
  
"G-grandpa?" he finally spoke, shooting a nervous glance at the girl on his left arm.  
  
Albus chortled and crossed the small distance between them, pulling Harry into a big hug. Harry took this opportunity to whisper: "What're you doing here?" into his ear. Albus ignored the question, sort of.  
  
"Hello, Harry. I'm here to take my favorite grandson back to England with me. Oh, and to stock up on lemon drops. though it seems other people need them more than I do."  
  
"That was very nice of you," the girl spoke softly and even though Albus couldn't see her eyes behind the sunglasses he had a good feeling she was eyeing him curiously.  
  
"Thank you, Miss Spiro."  
  
She looked shocked. "I-but-how do you know my name?" She whispered the last part. It wasn't as if she wasn't used to people she'd never met before knowing her, that was part of being famous and all, but this man really didn't look like he fit into her stereotypical fan base. No, no, this tall, excessively bearded man was definitely not a girl or boy between the ages of twelve and sixteen.  
  
"Harry has told me about you," Albus responded, casting Harry an almost indistinguishable glance that told the young wizard to play along.  
  
"Oh, er, yes. you know, letters and things," Harry smiled almost apologetically at Casey and grabbed her hand. She smiled and seemed to forget the strangeness of the situation for the moment. "We'd better get to my gate. The plane leaves soon," Harry said, grabbing the cart his trunk was on with his other hand.  
  
Albus followed the two and watched Harry pretend to be interested in whatever Casey was talking loudly about. The old wizard smiled and popped the last lemon drop from the bag he'd bought before he left England into his mouth. He was looking forward to the flight home.  
  
~*~  
  
"Good, Draco. Now say it in French," Lucius Malfoy said to his son, who was busy translating the sentence 'My loyalties lie where they belong.' into as many different languages as he could.  
  
"Mon mensonge de fidélités où ils appartiennent," Draco said with a sigh. This was the fifth language he'd had to translate that sentence into. If it wasn't for the Trans-All chewing gum (Guaranteed to give even the thickest wizard a fluent tongue in every language!) he'd had the good sense to start chewing when his father took him from his room and decided to quiz him, he'd never have been able to translate the sentence into Swahili or Eskimo, requests which he thought were absolutely ridiculous. Then again, his father did spend most of the summer unjustly locked away in Azkaban so perhaps he was allowed an oddity now and again.  
  
"Well done. Now try it in Italian."  
  
"La mia bugia di lealtà dove appartengono."  
  
"Spanish?"  
  
"Lucius," Draco's mother, Narcissa, cut in. "Is this all really necessary?" she asked from her seat across the drawing room. She'd been writing to Mrs. Parkinson. Draco cast a quick and thankful glance in his mother's direction. He wasn't really fond of her, but she proved helpful every now and again.  
  
"Of course it is! You just never know when you might be taken hostage by someone who doesn't speak English," Lucius stated. Draco raised his eyebrows and seriously wondered why he looked up to his father so much. "Besides, the Aurors are fluent in more than one language-even American Muggle children are being taught more than just English, so why shouldn't our boy be just as well-spoken?"  
  
"But Eskimo!" Draco exclaimed, giving his father a questioning look.  
  
"Say it in Spanish, Draco," Lucius growled. Draco nodded, knowing it wasn't any use to question his father; it was one of the few things the older Malfoy would not let his son get away with. However, just as he opened his mouth a loud POP sounded directly behind him. Draco jumped and swallowed his gum.  
  
"What do you want, Girk?" Lucius asked the house elf that was now peering around Draco's knees. Draco cursed under his breath and gave their new servant a small, but harsh, kick.  
  
"Girk is sorry to be interrupting, Sir," he said, crumpling up his pillow case (which was already well on its way to becoming grimy and decrepit), "but Girk thoughts Master and Madam should know supper 's ready for them, Sir."  
  
"Very well," Lucius said and waved the aging house elf away. It left with another loud POP and almost immediately after Draco could smell the pudding the elf had made for supper. "Now, Draco, I'd like to hear the sentence in Spanish."  
  
Draco watched his mother leave the room with pleading eyes. He swallowed and nodded his head. "Right. mi loyalty. os lie. o." Draco cleared his throat nervously. His father was looking down his long nose at him. Draco tried not to fidget more but failed. Lucius sighed and held up a hand.  
  
"Never mind, son. Go and eat your supper."  
  
"Yes father."  
  
Twenty minutes later Draco was picking unhappily at a caramel and pecan biscuit he'd swiped from the batch his mother was making as a care package to Blaise Zabini's father. Blaise's mother was in St. Mungo's again and the Healers were finding it harder and harder to treat her illness.  
  
"I hate pecans," he muttered into his wardrobe as he looked for something appropriate to wear. Narcissa had informed him and his father that they would be taking a short holiday to go and visit the Zabini's. Lucius had put up quite a fuss-him and Mr. Zabini were in somewhat of a spat at the moment-and Draco hadn't exactly been thrilled, but at least there would be a fellow Slytherin his own age that wasn't Pansy Parkinson there to keep him company.  
  
Finding nothing that was both clean and acceptable to be seen by the general public in, Draco flung himself onto his bed and took a bite out of the biscuit, angrily pushing away the crumbs which fell onto his front as he chewed.  
  
"I really hate pecans."  
  
~*~  
  
". And then I. oh, where was I again?" Casey asked, distracted by a plane landing and running her fingers through the tips of her hair.  
  
"I think you were finished," Harry said, pleading evident in his voice. Casey's forehead scrunched up and it was Harry's only way of telling that she was eyeing him. She was still wearing dark, rectangular sunglasses, even though she was inside.  
  
"No, I don't think so," she said, absentmindedly tapping her chin. "Oh well! I guess I'll just have to start from the beginning."  
  
"Oh. good." Somehow, Harry managed to plaster a fake smile on his face, again. The two were sitting side by side on black leather chairs that sidled up against a large panel window. His plane had just landed and was now pulling into the gate. He jogged his memory to try and remember how long he'd had to wait in the airport two months ago. After a moment of reconciliation he figured he had close to thirty minutes left in America.  
  
"Alright, so I was at this café in New York City-at least I think that's where it was, I might be wrong-but anyways, I was at this café in- you know, that's really going to bug me! Hold on, let me think of where it is. oh yes! I remember now! I was in Cleveland in this cheesecake shop- why'd I think of New York City, Harry?" Casey giggled. Harry sort of gagged. He'd heard this story twice already within the past twenty minutes and it continued to get worse every time she spoke. "Are you okay?" she asked as Harry tried to hide his quickly disappearing patience in a loud cough.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine. Go on," Harry said and then mentally killed himself for those last two words. Casey smiled, though, and for a short moment Harry didn't feel quite so much on the verge of a migraine.  
  
She watched him carefully for a moment and then continued with the story, grabbing Harry's hand at certain integral parts. He would take her physical contact as a cue to nod, smile, and possibly laugh once or twice. Normally Harry would've had the good manners to actually make an effort to listen to her story, and her first time through he did try, but as soon as he found out she'd been rambling on for ten minutes about a particularly good lemon turnover he'd been more than slightly aggravated. After all, this was their last day together for what could be forever and she wanted to talk about lemon turnovers? Harry knew she wasn't one for particularly stimulating conversation, but lemon turnovers were really a new low.  
  
It was about the time that she'd had to restart her story for the second time that Harry had decided to give Voldemort a break and declare war against the Darker Lord Turnovermort with Draco Malfoy as his right hand man. It took a few minutes for reality to come back into play and let Harry know that he and his imagination had gone completely insane. The realization that he'd been within five feet of Draco Malfoy and not trying to remember the hex that once turned him into a ferret would come later.  
  
"And that's it! I'm done!" Casey smiled, proud that she'd finally finished her tale. Harry wanted to get up and dance.  
  
"Wonderful story, dear." He kissed her instead. She hesitated and Harry remembered that Dumbledore was sitting on one of the chairs across from them, smiling at children and most likely making numerous mental notes. So he pulled away and just hugged her instead. It was rather silly to Harry, seeing as Dumbledore had no doubt witnessed more teenaged snogging than was good for him, but then Harry also remembered that Casey thought the bearded man was his Grandpa, so he didn't say anything.  
  
"Flight 534 direct from Boston to London, England will now begin boarding. All first class ticket holders, Gold Card members, and persons with medical assistance who may need longer time boarding may begin to load onto the plane at this time," said an old woman whose voice sounded like a drawn out wheeze.  
  
"I'm going to miss you so much," Casey whimpered, squeezing Harry harder. Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek. This was the part he'd been dreading.  
  
~*~  
  
The Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was currently being put into a state by his seat belt. Harry Potter was sitting calmly to his right on the airplane ("One of the Muggles' most ingenious accomplishments!" he'd told Poppy once.). The boy was looking out the window and Albus could tell by the shape of Harry's cheeks that he was trying hard to control his smile. Albus focused his attention back on his seat belt and, after another short squall, finally heard everything click into place.  
  
"You know," Harry said, turning and pulling a safety manual out of the seat cushion in front of him. "It's a little disconcerting. I mean, if these things are supposed to be so safe, why do we have to be buckled in?"  
  
Albus chuckled. "People tend to be a bit more cautious when they do not know how to perform Impedimenta properly." Harry looked up at him somewhat blankly. Albus narrowed his eyes slightly. "Impedimenta, Harry," he repeated, making sure to keep his voice soft. Harry just looked at his hands. "Impedimenta allows an object to be slowed down and stopped in mid- air. If I remember correctly, you used this spell during both your fourth and fifth years."  
  
"I'm sorry-" Harry looked around unsurely, "Grandpa-I've had a lot on my mind."  
"Clearly schoolwork was not included," Albus said with a tiny smile. Harry shook his head and smiled as well, his posture becoming visibly relieved. "Well my boy, if you didn't spend your summer preparing for this year's lessons, what have you been doing?"  
  
Albus watched as the young wizard screwed up his face in thought. After a moment or two the boy took a large breath and began:  
  
"Well," Harry began in a hushed voice. "When the portkey you gave me dropped me outside of her building I wasn't exactly sure what to do. It was raining and windy, though, so I went inside. Brilliant job using her penthouse number as the portkey, by the way," Harry said the last part as an afterthought. Albus nodded his thank you.  
  
"It took me a bit to figure that part out, though. I was still very upset at you and finding I'd been portkeyed into another country didn't exactly help my emotions any. Anyhow, when I finally figured it out-or hoped I'd figured it out-it was very early in the morning. It was weird when I first met her. I didn't talk to her for a week," Harry blushed. "But after I did we got along pretty nicely." Albus gave Harry a small smirk. Harry laughed. "Alright, we got along better than pretty nicely. She took me shopping and out for dinner. We saw movies together--" Harry paused for a moment and opened his mouth to say something, but decided not to.  
  
"I know what a movie is, Harry," Albus offered. Harry smiled, obviously satisfied, and continued.  
  
"We went on a couple short holidays along the coast. Those were wonderful. I met her friends, I missed my friends, and I quite enjoyed not having to look at the Durselys or Privet Drive once." Harry nodded in conclusion. Albus had a strong premonition that Harry was leaving large chunks of his summer out, but he didn't question the boy. In fact, it was Harry who seemed to be full of questions.  
  
"May I ask you something?"  
  
"Of course, Harry," Albus said.  
  
"Alright, well, I've been thinking about this all summer and I was just wondering: Why did you have people guarding me when I was at Privet Drive, yet had no one there when I was clear across the ocean?"  
  
Albus allowed himself a chuckle. "Of course you were guarded, Harry. They were better disguised this time, however."  
  
"They?"  
  
"Your cook, your butler, the door man, the lady who sits at the front desk from midnight until six AM, one particular member of the paparazzi, and occasionally Niki Allem."  
"Oh. wait, occasionally?" Harry raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Yes, occasionally. It's a new sort of magic we're trying out. Much like Occlumency, really, except the person performing it can transfer their entire body into the body of another."  
  
Harry looked like he was trying to make sense of this. "So it's a sort of. soul magic?"  
  
"Precisely. Though do not expect it to be showing up in your textbooks any time soon. The Ministry is still working out the kinks, and with Voldemort-"  
  
"Has anything happened yet?" Harry asked quickly. Albus shook his head, knowing full well that Harry had been prevented from finding out any information about the wizarding world at all during the summer months.  
  
"No. There was a small killing in Northern Ireland that looked like it may have been his work, but the Ministry researched it and found it to be only a tragic ending to another Muggle dispute over religion," Albus said gravely. Harry didn't look entirely convinced, but he let the topic drop.  
  
"So who told the Dursleys that I wouldn't be coming home?" Harry asked, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. Albus did not smile.  
  
"I informed your Aunt by owl two weeks before the end of term."  
  
Harry's smile stopped. "How long, exactly, were you planning on doing this to me?"  
  
"I had known for a week or two before that night at the Ministry," Albus began, choosing his words carefully. Harry's face had already begun to darken. "I thought it might do you some good to visit a friend of the family-"  
  
"I would hardly call her that," Harry said harshly. "A family friend is normally someone whom you've grown up with and who you've known all your life." He paused. "It also helps if you have a family to begin with."  
  
Albus remained calm. Somber, but calm. "Casey's mother was a childhood friend of your mother and was her only friend who still accepted Lily for what she was once her magical abilities were revealed. Their friendship was so strong that it lasted through Lily's school days. Even though Casey's family is perfectly Muggle her mother, her new husband, and their two-year-old daughter remained close friends with your parents up until the end." (Harry scowled.) "Should life have traveled a happier path, I have no doubt in my mind-old as it may be-that you would have grown up in Casey's company."  
  
"But things didn't work out that way," Harry continued on for Albus, who nodded.  
  
"Unfortunately you are correct. Circumstances provided that you and Casey never met more than a handful of times in your early youth. To my knowledge, she has no clue about her parents' past."  
  
"If they were so ashamed of it, why were they friends with my parents in the first place?" Harry seethed.  
  
"Do not assume things, Harry. I do not know her parents' reasoning for keeping this from their daughter, but that is also not my place to meddle. They have moved on," Albus finished. "Perhaps you should try to take a nap. You've had a long summer."  
  
Harry sighed and pulled a small pillow out from underneath his seat. Albus couldn't blame Harry for being angry, but he had also hoped that this extended holiday would rid him of the anger and resentment it had obviously failed in doing. That was, after all, the entire point in sending the boy over to America in the first place. Originally, it had been to give Harry a break and show him that there were people who, just like him, faced the trials of fame and were able to remain happy about it. The idea of sending him overseas had been toying in his mind since he saw Harry enter the Great Hall on his first day of Fifth Year. However, as the year progressed Albus noticed one of his favorite students drifting further and further inside of himself. A month before Sirius died he knew he would be portkeying Harry across the Pacific Ocean. That tragic night, however, only added fire to the flame. It was for Harry's safety, really, Albus assured himself. Doubts began to spring up in his head, however, and so he ordered a hot chocolate off of the refreshment cart when the brunette stewardess passed.  
  
~*~  
  
Harry stared moodily at the insides of his eyelids. For the second time in twenty-four hours he was pretending to be asleep. He sighed sleepily and switched positions, hoping that maybe he really would fall asleep. Dumbledore had just given him information (and morbid reminders) he'd really rather not think about at the moment.  
  
Slowly sleep took him over. Fifteen minutes later and Harry was dreaming of Casey having tea with his parents when their house was suddenly broken into by the Darker Lord Turnovermort.  
  
Harry's eyes popped open with a start. He swore under his breath and made a personal vow never to eat anything lemon ever again before drifting into a dreamless sleep for the rest of the journey. The last thing he could remember was how absolutely wonderful it'd feel to be with Ron and Hermione once again. 


End file.
